Epithalamia
by Samantha
Summary: Sequel to Wedding March. A close friend's break up has Harry and Hemione re-evaluating their relationship...
1. Part One

A/N: This is set three years after Wedding March. You don't have to read it to understand this story, but if you're going to read it, read it before you read this. Got it? Good. Bon appetite!   
  
It was raining outside. The water beat down heavily on the roof of the London apartment building, creating a noise that could wake the dead. Distant thundering could be heard; the rumbling making a background rhythm for the rain. Gazing out the window was an absolutely pointless act; one could not see three feet from the glass through the pouring skies. The night was a dreary, depressing one, especially for an early fall evening; it wasn't a violent enough storm to be exciting, or a light enough one to be shrugged off with ease. It was the type of evening when one sat on the couch, gorged on fat-free potato chips and ice cream, and watched the television, attempting to forget the grief and burdens of the world that were reinforced by the rain. They were trying to ignore how the world was shouting, screaming about how they had screwed up their lives, how miserable and lonely the human race is, including themselves.  
  
Harry sat on his couch in his small apartment; his head bowed in silent prayer. His wife of three years, Hermione, was arriving from South America that night after being there for a week on business. That was the longest they had been apart since they had married on a faithful night in May in Las Vegas. He missed her so much that his stomach hurt and his heart fluttered with the thought that, in less than an hour, he would see her again. He fingered a framed picture of the two of them that had been taken a year ago; they had gone on a vacation to Florida and were dressed in board shorts and T-shirts, sipping virgin strawberry daiquiris. Please come home, he thought as he looked out the window once more. The weather was dangerous to be out in, and adding in the average drunk drivers for the late hour of the night, it would have been a very perilous night to drive in. She was taking a taxi home, as she didn't want Harry coming to get her and getting them both killed (he was a bit of a poor driver), but Harry didn't trust anyone driving except his Hermione. Please come home, he prayed.  
  
He thought of his interesting past with Hermione. They had eloped the night of her intended marriage to David Mercenary, who was dumped at the alter by Hermione, thanks to a small prank the Weasley twins pulled on her. After Harry and Hermione's marriage, they moved out of the lavish flat they shared with Ron Weasley and Marguerite (Maggie) Chabert, and had moved into the smaller apartment three blocks away in which they were living in now. Ginny Weasley and her friend Hannah Abbott then moved into the apartment, making Ron the lone male. He didn't mind, in fact, Ron adored the attention given to him by his female roommates, at least until he started dating one of them.   
  
To pass the time until Hermione arrived home, he listened to the sounds of the families in the adjacent flats. There were a great many wizards in the apartment building, mostly because it was a block from Diagon Ally. Harry heard the family in the flat to his right preparing dinner. They were all laughing, and seemed so happy. In their three years of marriage, Harry and Hermione had rarely talked about having a family and children, but Harry wanted it more than anything. Even when he was young, he had always wanted to have a family and have children when he 'grew up'; now that he was an adult it seemed proper to change his fantasy into reality. He had the wife of his dreams; he wanted have children with her. He had never really had a family, as his parents were dead and he never considered the Dursleys his family; they were merely the people he lived with. He wanted children so badly; he wanted the type of warm, loving household he was so jealous of Ron for having. He knew that Hermione would most likely faint at the idea of having seven children, but Harry didn't see how perhaps having two or three would be so preposterous.  
  
In the flat to Harry's left were the sounds of an old woman yelling at her teenage son to 'turn that awful crap down!' Harry smirked at the woman's words, but his smile quickly faded when he realized that that might be the reason of Hermione not really warming up to the idea of a family. She doesn't want to turn into that, Harry thought. She doesn't want to screw up and turn into someone less than desirable. Harry shook the image from his head of Hermione screaming at their teenage child to turn his music down. She would never do that, he concluded. Hermione was much 'cooler' than that.  
  
The noises coming from the apartment above his head was of two lovers, well, 'getting it on.' Harry grinned slyly at the sound. He wondered when he got older, conservative, and cynical(much like his neighbor who lived below him, Bob Middle), if he would resent the noise. 'In my day,' he'd croon, 'We didn't do that stuff. We reproduced by fission and mitosis!' Harry chuckled in the memory of Bob screaming the same speech at him and Hermione one morning when they had been a bit too loud the night before. Harry had been surprised at how easily Hermione had laughed that off; she was really loosening up. Harry laughed even harder at the remembrance of how Bob had threatened to beat them over the head with his baseball bat if they did it again. Bob's warnings were as empty as his brain; they had done it again, to no further real actions from Bob.  
  
"What's so funny?" a voice came from behind him. Harry spun around and saw that he was face to face with a very pretty and very tanned woman dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, his wife. Relief flew through him; she was here and in one piece. Harry smiled and walked over to her.  
  
"Hey," Harry greeted her. "You're home."  
  
"Well, someone's smart," she joked. "Yes, I'm home! Thank god! That taxi driver went about twenty miles an hour! I really wish I had gone into the bathroom and just apperated home, but no, I had to ride in the taxi."  
  
"Hermione," he whispered as he leaned in and kissed her. Three years into their relationship, and they still had all the passion they did before. "Sorry," he whispered after the kiss had been broken. "I was just waiting a week to that. It's very painful being away from you."  
  
Hermione grinned. "I've missed you too," she said as she hugged him. "How have you been? I know I haven't owled you since Tuesday."  
  
Harry put his arm around her. "I know. It's a bit of a distance for Hedwig to fly, no isn't it?"  
  
"Yes, it is. He did it once; I doubt he's ready to do it again. I wish I had found a fellyphone, no telephone, ugh, I've been hanging around Ron for WAY too long; if I had found one, believe me, I would have called you."  
  
"No telephones?"  
  
She smiled. "No, no telephones amidst the Amazon. How is everyone?"  
  
Harry grinned. "Well, neighbor Bob threatened to chain-saw fellow neighbor Susie and her paramour Matt if they didn't shut up." He pointed to the ceiling, referring to the couple who lived in the flat above.  
  
"He didn't!" Hermione laughed.  
  
"He did! I swear!"   
  
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Someone needs to get rid of that guy. I'm sorry, that's just sad."  
  
"It is," Harry agreed. "In fact, they're going at it now."  
  
"Bob's going to have a cow," Hermione said.  
  
Harry nodded. He put his arms around Hermione's waist. "Hey, do you want to piss off Bob even more?"   
  
Hermione smacked him. "Get your mind out of the gutter! I swear, you have the hormones of a teenager."  
  
"Is that a yes?"   
  
Hermione pouted. "What about my luggage? I have to unpack!"  
  
"We'll do that later," Harry told her.  
  
She laughed and looked down. "God, what is your problem?"  
  
"It's that I'm in love you, but I'd hardly consider that a problem," Harry whispered.  
  
She looked down at her luggage, then back at Harry. "I love you too." She smiled and hugged him again. "Oh, it's good to be home."   
  
***  
  
"Do you hear something?" Hermione whispered, sitting upright in their bed.  
  
"Herm, it's three o'clock in the morning, and I just got to sleep. It's nothing."  
  
"Harry!" Hermione chastised. "It was like a lock clicking or something."  
  
"Hermione," Harry whined. "It's-" he stopped suddenly at the sound of a loud crash in the living room. "Shit."  
  
"Oh my god."   
  
"Stay here, ok? I'll go see what it was."  
  
Hermione shook her head. "There is no way in hell I'll letting you go out there without me!" She slid out of bed and wrapped a robe around her nightgown. "I'm going too."  
  
"Stay here!" Harry whispered loudly.  
  
Hermione walked over to him. She was at least six inches shorter than him, but at the moment, it was obvious who was the boss. "Ok, ok," Harry whispered. "Sorry."  
  
"Let's go," she said as she grabbed their wands. She took a few tentative steps toward the living room. It was pitch black in there, and it was hard to see where one was going. In the hallway, Harry ran into the end table. "Are you ok?" Hermione whispered.  
  
"Ouch. Yeah, I guess." Harry put a hand on Hermione's back as they slowly entered the living room.  
  
Hermione gasped at what she saw. There was a silhouette of a tall person, obviously a man, running his hands on various objects in the dark room. He had a long nose and very long legs. Hermione's eyes ran across the room to see the broken object that had caused the loud crash which the couple had heard from their bedroom. It was a lamp, the one which Hermione had bought two weeks after her graduation from Hogwarts and had ever since. A rage flowed through Hermione's body; an anger directed at this intruder who had not only broken into her home, who had broken Hermione's favorite lamp. It was petty, sure, but the anger was better than the extreme fear that had filled her a few minutes ago. "Expelliarmus!" she screamed. The silhouette flew back against the wall, uttering a cry that she subconsciously recognized.  
  
Harry fumbled against the wall to find a light switch. "Goddammit," he murmured. He finally found it, for light invaded the room and felt like a slap in the face. Hermione had to look away at first, then she felt her eyes slowly adjusting to the bright light of the room. Her eyes fell on the intruder, and she gasped again.  
  
"Oh, Ron!" she cried, running to his side. "Are you ok? I'm so sorry, but, you shouldn't have done that! Have you not heard of doorbells? You gave us a fright!"  
  
"Hey, are you ok?" Harry asked, crouching next to his friend.   
  
Ron turned his face toward them, and one could easily notice how bloodshot his eyes were, and how red his face was. He had been crying. "I'm fine," he said, his voice trembling.  
  
"What's wrong?" Hermione asked, placing a friendly hand on Ron's shoulder.   
  
"Maggie and I broke up," Ron whispered.  
  
"Dammit," Hermione whispered. Ron and Maggie had finally started dating a year after Harry and Hermione had married. Everyone was happy at their union (except Colin Creevy, who was still madly in love with Maggie, and always had been), and was ecstatic when Ron proposed to her three months before. Especially happy about the arrangement was Ginny, Maggie's best friend, who was constantly saying that she 'would finally get a sister.' Hermione helped Ron to the couch, gently, trying not to touch where he had hit the wall when she had disarmed him.   
  
"What happened?" Harry inquired.  
  
Ron sniffed. "Oh, god! It was so stupid! It was maybe eleven o'clock, and we were, well, you know." Harry nodded and Hermione stifled a giggle. "Do hush, Hermione. I have a very good idea that that's exactly what you and Harry were up to before I came."  
  
Hermione blushed. "Sorry, go on."  
  
Ron sighed and buried his face in his hands. "Well, we were talking about the wedding. She told me that she wanted Ginny to be the maid of honor. And I told her to go ahead, I mean she's my sister and all. We're doing a white and blue color scheme; they're Ginny's favorite colors-"  
  
"Ron?" Harry interrupted.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"I hate to be rude, but do get on to the part where you two fought."  
  
Ron glared at Harry, but continued. "We were talking about where we wanted to go on our honeymoon. She wanted to go to Hawaii; I wanted to go to Liverpool or somewhere."  
  
"Liverpool? Oh Ron, that's so romantic," Hermione said sarcastically.  
  
Ron sighed. "We really can't afford Hawaii. And anyway, how much do you really get out of the hotel room on the honeymoon? I mean, Harry, how much of Las Vegas did you actually see?"  
  
Harry grinned. "The wedding chapel, and I think we went to Caesar's palace." He laughed. "You've got a point there; I don't think we got out of bed for the first three days." Hermione turned scarlet and smacked his shoulder. "What? We didn't!"  
  
"You don't go and tell people that!" Hermione hissed.  
  
"Anyway, back to my story!" Ron said loudly. "Well, we started fighting. I told her that about the hotel room, and she called me a hormone-crazed teenager and an immature little boy. I told her about the money problem, and she called me a cheap bastard."  
  
"Well, you probably are being cheap," Hermione told him.  
  
"Thanks, Herm," Ron said with a fake smile.  
  
"No, really. I don't think you mean it, but I do think you are tight with money. I mean, you were poor growing up, so you have a natural tendency to save your money and not waste it on the small things," Hermione said.  
  
"Like honeymoons."  
  
"No Ron, not like honeymoons." Hermione bit her lip. "A honeymoon is a big deal, even if you don't do much. It's one of those things that the thought counts more than the actual thing."  
  
Tears streamed down Ron's cheeks. "Well, I'll never get a chance to go on a honeymoon, now will I?"   
  
"What are you talking about?" Harry exclaimed. "Just go and apologize."  
  
Ron shook his head. "No, it's over. She threw this at my head." He extracted a diamond engagement ring out of his pocket.  
  
"She broke an engagement over an argument about the honeymoon?" Hermione asked, shocked.  
  
"No," Ron admitted. "I said a lot of things that I regret. I'm sure she said some things she regrets too. It wasn't just about the honeymoon; we argued about other things also."  
  
"Like what?"  
  
"Like you two," he said.  
  
"What about us?" Harry asked incredulously, placing a protective arm around Hermione, who scooted closer to him.  
  
Ron sighed. "Oh, about that entire David thing. She says that I acted immaturely in not telling Hermione how you felt." He snorted. "Immature my ass. It was your problem."  
  
"Our problem?" Hermione inquired.  
  
"That didn't come out the way I wanted it to. I didn't want to get in the middle of that love triangle."  
  
"That's understandable," Hermione said. "Really, me, in a love triangle? I've thought that I've had a relatively uneventful love life. Guess I was wrong."  
  
"Relatively uneventful love life?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.  
  
Hermione buried her face in his shoulder. "Well, I've only had one boyfriend."  
  
Harry shook his head. "No, two. Me and David."  
  
Hermione laughed against his shoulder. "Actually, we never really went out. We were engaged, then married. We never really dated."  
  
Harry pouted. "Well-"  
  
"Ahem!" Ron cleared his throat. "Back to the discussion on hand!"  
  
"Yes, sorry," Hermione apologized.  
  
"Yeah, sorry," Harry said. "Please continue."  
  
"That's pretty much it," Ron told them. "I can't believe I've just lost the woman I love to something as stupid as this."  
  
"You haven't lost her!" Hermione cried. "Just go and apologize."  
  
Harry nodded in agreement. "If you love her, go back and beg for forgiveness. I mean, get on your knees and beg for mercy."  
  
Hermione grinned. "If she really loves you too, then she'll eventually come around. But nothing will happen if you don't, and you'll end up losing one of the most important things in your life."  
  
Ron nodded. "I'll go there first thing in the morning. She's staying in the apartment."  
  
"Where are you going to sleep tonight?" Harry asked.  
  
Hermione shook her head in disbelief. "Harry, I swear, sometimes you are so dense," she whispered.  
  
"What?"  
  
Hermione grinned. "Ron, why don't you stay here tonight? You can stay in the guest bedroom."  
  
"Thanks," Ron said. "If it's not too much trouble."  
  
"Ron," Hermione scolded. "It's never too much trouble. You're our best friend." She reached over and hugged Ron. "Now, I'm going to bed!"   
  
"Tired?" Ron suggested. "Or you just want to go back to the bedroom?" He raised his eyebrow at the last comment.  
  
"The former," Hermione said. "I'm too tired to even think about the latter."  
  
"Me too," Harry said. "Night, Ron."  
  
"You know where everything is, right? Help yourself to anything that's in the kitchen," Hermione told Ron.  
  
"Although there's nothing good in there," Harry admitted. "For the last week I've been living of cereal and macaroni and takeout. I only cook when I have someone to cook for."  
  
Hermione smiled. "Which is good, because the most complicated thing I can cook is spaghetti O's. Heat and serve; that's my motto."  
  
Ron laughed. "I love you guys."  
  
"I love you too," Hermione said softly as she hugged Ron again. "I'm so sorry about everything. It'll all look better in the morning; I promise."  
  
Harry put his hand on Ron's shoulder. "Everything will work out. Don't worry about it. Love you, man."  
  
"Love you too, dude," Ron said jokingly, faking tears.  
  
"Oh my god, this is so emotional!" Hermione exclaimed sarcastically.  
  
"Shut up," Harry said.  
  
"No, really! I mean this is really a breakthrough moment!"  
  
"Come on," Harry said as he pushed her towards the bedroom. "Night Ron!"  
  
"Night."  
  
***  
  
"Hermione?" Harry Potter whispered, laying down on his bed, staring up at the ceiling.  
  
"What?"   
  
"I love you."  
  
Hermione smiled. "I love you too, sweetheart." She snuggled closer to him and he wrapped his arms around her. "I love you too," she muttered against the sleeve of his T-shirt.  
  
"Hermione?"  
  
"What?" came the slightly annoyed answer from the sleepy figure nestled against him.  
  
"Do you want children?"  
  
Hermione rolled over and looked at her husband. "Huh?"  
  
"Do you want children?"  
  
"That was a random question."  
  
"I know," Harry admitted. "But, while I was waiting for you to come home tonight-"  
  
"Uh huh."  
  
Harry continued. "I was listening to the sounds of our neighbors in the apartments next to ours. On the right, I heard a family eating dinner."  
  
"Probably the McGills. They have three children: two boys and a girl."   
  
"Anyway, everything that happened sounded so warm and cozy and loving. I was just wondering if you picture us doing that. Sitting down to dinner with our kids and being a family."  
  
"Harry," Hermione whined. "I'm trying to sleep."  
  
Harry sighed. "I really want to know. Do you want children?"  
  
"Do you mean now, or someday?" she asked.  
  
"Either," he whispered.  
  
"Well, maybe someday," she muttered.  
  
"Maybe someday?"  
  
She snorted. "You're really not going to let me sleep until we have this conversation, are you?"  
  
"Nope," Harry said. "Just answer the question, please love?"  
  
She sighed. "Harry, to tell you the truth-"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I don't really want children."  
  
"What?" Harry exclaimed, surprised by her answer. How could she not want what he wanted most?  
  
"You heard me. I don't really want children," Hermione said. "Can I go to sleep now?"  
  
Harry ignored her last comment. "Why on earth do you not want kids?"  
  
"Why not? Well, I've never really been one for diaper changes and one a.m. feedings and not sleeping a wink."  
  
"You're dwelling on the negative things," Harry told her.  
  
"Another thing is that I don't have time. I'm working -my career is going great- and I have you. That's all I need. I don't want children."  
  
"You don't want a family?" Harry asked, still in shock and disbelief.  
  
Hermione looked at him. "Not really. Why are you questioning that?"  
  
Harry laid his head against the pillows. "No reason."  
  
"Are you ok with that?" Hermione asked, propping herself up with an elbow so she could gaze into his tear-laced emerald green eyes. "Oh, sweetie, what's wrong?"  
  
"Nothing," he said stuffily. "I'm fine."  
  
"Are you ok with that?" she whispered, her voice softening.  
  
"Ok with what?"  
  
Hermione ran her fingers down his arm. "About not having children."  
  
"I don't know," Harry said. "I don't know. I'm going to sleep. G'night."  
  
She kissed his cheek. "Goodnight love." With that, she shut her eyes against the pillow and seemed to fall asleep instantly.  
  
Harry couldn't fall asleep with the same ease. He tossed and turned for about an hour or so, with no result. He finally gave up and stared at the ceiling absent-mindedly. He noticed a crack in the ceiling, resembling a little bear. A teddy bear, he thought painfully. God, even my ceiling is telling me to have children. He turned on his side, facing his wife. He reached out and grabbed her hand. He ran his fingers over the lines and creases in her own palm, trying to remember every detail, every mark on her hand. Lightly kissing her fingertips, he closed his eyes and thought about the conversation they had just had. She's come around, Harry thought. We're only twenty five. We have plenty of time. Harry placed her hand down on the bed. "What if she doesn't come around?" he thought out loud. He shook the thoughts from his head. He didn't want to think about it; he wanted to sleep.  
  
  
  
A/N: Less than twenty four hours and I will be a proud owner of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Ohmygod! And if something in my story is proved horribly wrong in the fourth book, then this will be a Alternative Universe fic where book four didn't exist. Like if the person who died was Ginny or one of the twins, just pretend they're still alive. Ok? Ok! Hey, did you like? Please read and review; I need it! I think there will either be two or three more parts. This won't be near as long as Wedding March.  
  
Disclaimer: Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Ginny Weasley, Hannah Abbott, and Colin Creevy all belong to the wonderful J.K. Rowling. (We love you!)  
  
Maggie Chabert, David Mercenary, Bob Middle, Susie and her paramour Matt, the McGills, the old woman and her teenage son all belong to me. I'll sell the old woman or Bob if anyone wants to buy them from me.   
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Part Two

A/N: Sorry this part took so long! I've had a) major writer's block, b) post-GoF depression, and c) I've been at camp. But now I'm home and grounded, so expect the next part out soon!  
  
  
"Where are you going?" Hermione asked Ron the next morning over coffee.  
  
"I don't know," he admitted. "Just out."  
  
"Go back and apologize," Harry suggested.  
  
"I can't!" Ron screamed. "I can't!"  
  
Hermione smiled at his childish outburst. "Ron, just go. You know you want to and you'll feel so much better once you do."  
  
"What will I do? What will I say?" Ron cried. "God, I feel so lost. I feel like a piece of me is missing."   
  
"Just go," Harry snapped. "Go and get it over with so we can all get back to our lives."  
  
"Harry!" Hermione cried. "That's so mean! What's wrong with you?"  
  
"What's wrong with me?" He barked. "I'm f****** perfect, thank you very much. I'm the goddamn picture of perfection."  
  
"Harry, really. What's wrong?" Ron asked.  
  
Harry glared at him, but wiped a tear away. "I just want you to shut up! All of you!" Tears started to cloud his vision.  
  
Hermione's gaze softened and she cocked her head to get a better view of her husband. "Sweetheart, I know you didn't get much sleep last night-"  
  
"Not a wink," Harry added.  
  
"But really, what's wrong? You've not slept well before and I don't think I've ever seen you in this bad of a mood."  
  
"Thanks Herm," Harry said. "Thanks a lot. Love you too." He went into their bedroom and slammed the door.  
  
"What's up with him?" Ron asked incredulously.  
  
"I haven't the slightest," Hermione stated.   
  
"Have you made him mad or something?"  
  
"No!" Hermione cried. "Well, perhaps."  
  
"What did you do?" Ron asked.  
  
"I didn't 'do' anything! Last night, we were just talking, and I think he was a bit upset," Hermione admitted.  
  
"What were you talking about?" Ron questioned. "I mean, we've known Harry for fourteen years; few things make him this emotional. You, his parents, maybe me, but that's it."  
  
"We talked about children," Hermione said slowly.  
  
"Ah," Ron sighed. "That's a touchy subject."  
  
"Yes, I know."  
  
"What did you say?"  
  
Hermione sighed and took a sip of her coffee. "He asked me if I wanted children."  
  
"And?"  
  
"I told him no. I told him that I really don't want children."  
  
Ron grinned slyly. "No wonder he's in such a bad mood. Wrong answer, Herm. That was the wrong answer."  
  
"Wrong answer?" Hermione exclaimed. "I told him the truth; I don't want children."  
  
"Perhaps you're right," Ron admitted. "I mean, it would be better to be honest with him than lead him on. He'll only be more hurt in the end."  
  
"Ron," Hermione sighed, exasperated with her best friend, with her husband, and with the entire situation. "What the hell are you talking about?"  
  
"Hermione, Harry wants kids. He always has. Maybe not now, but he wants a family. He wants kids to go out in the backyard and play Quidditch with him. He wants to help his kids with their homework. Settle down to family dinners and board games. He wants children."  
  
Hermione snorted. "He wants us to turn into the typical suburban family."  
  
"What's so wrong with that?" Ron asked gently.  
  
"I don't want to be a f****** soccer mom! I grew up amidst suburbia and it's definitely not all it's cracked up to be."  
  
"Hermione," he started. "Now what in the hell are YOU talking about?"  
  
Hermione buried her face in her hands. "I don't want to be a soccer mom. My mother was one, and look at the mess she is now. I don't want that. I want my career. I want my husband. I want sex, for christsake! I don't want to give my life up for the sake of being normal."  
  
Ron chuckled. "Herm, he's not asking you to turn into a soccer mom. He wants to be the soccer mom, not you. And what's so wrong with that?"  
  
"I-"  
  
"You don't want to turn into your mother, do you?" Ron asked carefully.  
  
"No! I don't!" Hermione cried. "She was beautiful and brilliant, had a wonderful career; she could have been so happy! She could have been the boss, had her own dental practice; she could have been something. But I ruined that. She had me and became nothing better than a part time assistant. She drove me to school, ballet, and the library reading group. She joined the goddamned PTA. She gave up her life for me. I don't want to give up my life, or make my kids feel the guilt I feel."  
  
"You shouldn't feel guilty! It's not your fault. She wanted a child, and she got one." Ron motioned to Hermione.  
  
"I don't want to make the same mistake she made," Hermione whispered.  
  
"What mistake did she make? Maybe she wasn't happy with her life before you were born. Would you prefer not to have been born?"  
  
"If I could have saved my mother from being a goddamn soccer mom, then yes," Hermione admitted.  
  
"What's wrong with you?" Ron cried. "I mean, do you not realize what a great person you are? Do you not realize that if it were not for you, Harry and I would not be here? We'd either be dead or- well, we'd most likely be dead."  
  
"Would not," Hermione argued.  
  
Ron hugged his friend. "Hermione, remember in our first year, when we got stuck in that vine stuff and you saved us?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"And do you remember in our second year when you figured out about the basilisk long before any of us did?" Ron asked.  
  
Hermione nodded. "Yes."  
  
"And do you remember in our third year when you saved Sirius with the time turner?"  
  
"Yes, I do."  
  
"And do you remember in our fourth year when-"  
  
"I get the point."  
  
"Hermione!" Ron exclaimed. "That's just four examples of how you've saved our skin in the last fourteen years. If you hadn't been born, we'd all be dead."   
  
Hermione grinned. "I did save your ass on more than one occasion, didn't I?"  
  
"Hermione, your mother didn't make a mistake by having you. She wanted a daughter, and she got one. She was happy."  
  
"I'm happy now! I don't want children to come and mess up my life!"  
  
Ron sighed and shook his head. "Just keep it in mind, all right? For Harry."  
  
"Ron, if I don't want children, I'm not having any. Simple as that," Hermione chuckled.   
  
"Whatever Hermione," Ron shook his head. "Whatever. I never volunteered to play psychologist or love doctor."  
  
"I never asked you to."  
  
"Hermione?" Ron asked timidly.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Would you play psychologist?"  
  
Hermione looked at him with a confused expression on her face. "What are you talking about?"  
  
"Will you go and talk to Maggie for me?" Ron begged.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Please!" Ron cried. "Please? I'll talk to Harry for you."  
  
Hermione snorted. "I can talk to Harry myself."  
  
Ron looked at his feet. "Well, I can't talk to Maggie. You have to help me. I mean, you have to! You're my best friend."  
  
Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes, but a smile played upon her lips. "You'll worship the ground I walk on forever?"  
  
"Yes! I will! Please?"  
  
Hermione grinned at Ron's helplessness. "Sure, I'll go and talk to her."  
  
Ron hugged Hermione tightly. "Thank you, thank you!"  
  
"What's this?" Harry asked from the doorway. His hair was messed up, his shirt was wrinkled, and his eyes were bloodshot and puffy.  
  
"Hermione's going to go and talk to Maggie for me!" Ron exclaimed, ignoring Harry's physical state.  
  
Harry eyes moved from Ron to Hermione. "That's sweet of you, Herm," he said in a monotone voice.  
  
"Harry," Hermione said as she moved over to him. "Are you ok?"  
  
"I'm fine," he whispered. Hermione placed her arms around his neck and hugged him. "I'm sorry," he told her as he put his arms around her waist.  
  
"It's ok," Hermione said. "It's ok."  
  
"Ahem," Ron cleared his throat. "Before you two get involved in a PDA session, Hermione, you promised you'd go."  
  
"No one can get any until you do, right Ron?" Harry joked.  
  
Ron laughed. "Now that sounds like the Harry we know and love!"  
  
Hermione smiled. "I'm going to go now. I doubt I'll be gone too long." She pecked Harry on the cheek. "I'll see you tonight, all right?"  
  
"Ok," Harry said. He gave Hermione one last squeeze, then released her from his embrace. "Bye Hermione."  
  
"Bye love," she whispered as she walked out the door. Harry's eyes lingered in the doorway in which she had just went.  
  
"I don't know what I'm going to do," Harry breathed.  
  
"Why?" Ron inquired.  
  
"I'm in love with a girl who doesn't want my kids because she's afraid of turning into a soccer mom." Harry shook his head. "She's afraid of the role I want to play myself."  
  
"You heard that?" Ron asked.  
  
"Every word."  
  
"What do you think?"  
  
"I have no clue."  
  
***  
  
When Maggie saw Hermione enter the apartment, the first words out of her mouth were, "I don't want to talk about Ron."  
  
"Nice to see you too, Maggie," Hermione joked.  
  
Maggie hit her forehead. "I'm sorry; I'm just a bit edgy."  
  
"Just a bit," Ginny said with a smile. "I'd say you are VERY edgy."  
  
"You just broke off an engagement; you have a right to be," Hannah said.  
  
"I still think you both over-reacted, but that's just me," Ginny said.  
  
"And I think you're a bit biased, Ginny," Maggie told her.  
  
"No I'm not!" Ginny exclaimed. "I am so not! Look, no one is suffering as much as I am. I'm the monkey in the middle; he's my brother and you're my best friend!"   
  
"How are you, anyway?" Hermione asked Maggie.  
  
"Terrible," she admitted. "I'm forgetting things, I'm tripping, and I've got a terrible cold."  
  
Hermione smiled. "Ron isn't doing well either, if it makes you feel any better."  
  
"You've seen him?" Maggie asked.  
  
"Yeah, he's staying with me and Harry. How else would I know about the breakup?"  
  
Maggie glared. "I really thought that Ginny was calling everyone she knew to tell them."  
  
"I did try you," Ginny admitted. "No one answered. I guessed you both were asleep, because it was around midnight."  
  
"Oh, yeah, uh, we were asleep. Yeah," Hermione blushed.  
  
"You're a horrible liar, Hermione," Ginny laughed. "You're a terrible liar. Never go back to Las Vegas to actually gamble; you'd lose all your money."  
  
"Shut up," Hermione said and sat down on the couch.   
  
"Hey, Hermione, do you want to take this quiz?" Maggie asked with an evil sparkle in her eyes, holding up her copy of Modern Witching Woman.  
  
"What is it?"   
  
"How Hot is Your Sex Life?" Maggie read, creating laughter from the other women. "Want to take it?"  
  
"Sure," Hermione said smugly. "Where's a pen?"  
  
Maggie laughed. "I can't wait to see this," she said as she handed Hermione a pen.  
  
"Neither can I," chuckled Ginny. "Anyway, Maggie, what are you going to do?"  
  
"About what?" Maggie asked innocently.  
  
"About my brother, you idiot! Are you going to apologize, or wait until he comes back on broken knee, or just not forgive him at all?"  
  
"Well," Maggie started. "The latter is too harsh; I do love him. The former is much too easy for him; I don't want him to consider me easy, if you please."  
  
"So you're going to wait until he comes back begging for forgiveness," Hannah stated.  
  
"Of course! Hermione, what would you do if you and Harry fought?" Maggie asked.  
  
"Um, it would depend on how bad the fight was."  
  
"You threatened divorce."  
  
"Um," Hermione stuttered. "I think I'd first find out how sorry he was, then I'd confront him and apologize."  
  
Maggie wrinkled her nose. "You'd be letting him off too easy!"  
  
"Why would you want him to suffer?" Hermione questioned, causing silence to fall throughout the room.  
  
"I, I, uh, I don't know," Maggie admitted. "Is Ron sorry?"  
  
Hermione smiled sadly. "Maggie, he's absolutely devastated."  
  
"Absolutely devastated. That sounds like a soap opera line!" Ginny chuckled.  
  
Hermione ignored her and went on. "Maggie, last night, when he came to our flat, he was crying and shaking and, oh Maggie, he was so upset! Believe me, I've had enough experience with being shaken up myself to tell when someone else is."  
  
"Do you?" Maggie asked. "I know the entire experience with David was awful-"  
  
"It was," Hermione agreed. "I didn't tell you this, but I ran into him in South America."  
  
"I hope that bastard went bald, bankrupt, and is really suffering," Ginny muttered.  
  
"Sorry," Hermione said. "He's still handsome and rich as ever. But he's married."  
  
"Married!" All three women gasped.  
  
"He married a Brazilian lingerie model named Annamarie Linguini," Hermione chuckled. "Who is, I don't know, not even nineteen."  
  
Ginny burst out with laughter. "God, am I sorry for her!"  
  
"Don't we all," Hermione said, shifting her focus back to the quiz. "This quiz is long," she whined to herself.  
  
"Do you guys think I should take him back?" Maggie asked softly.  
  
"Yes," Ginny and Hannah said at the same time.  
  
"Life is hard," Maggie groaned, burying her face in her hands.  
  
"It's not that hard," Hannah pointed out. "You love the guy, right?" Maggie nodded. "Then forgive him. You know you want to."  
  
"I should," Maggie admitted. "I will. I'll talk to him. I will."  
  
"I'm done!" Hermione announced, putting her pen down. "Here." She handed Maggie the magazine.  
  
"Let's see," Maggie said, looking at the magazine. Hermione you scored ninety points out of one hundred-." Maggie looked up from the magazine to grin at Hermione. "Hermione darling, according to this, you have a very hot sex life."  
  
Hermione shrugged. Maggie continued. "It says: 'Congratulations! You are a woman in a loving relationship with a very hot sex life. You and your partner are one, whether it is in bed or out. Just make sure that the physical part of your relationship doesn't overpower the emotional part.' That sounds hot n' heavy, Herm."  
  
Hermione grinned. "I just hope I get the grant to go to the Caribbean for a month on business."  
  
"Why?" Hannah asked.  
  
"Because, I'm going to be tromping through hot, beautiful rainforests, and I can take Harry with me." Hermione grinned. "Fun, huh?"  
  
"Fun!" Ginny agreed.  
  
"Ugh, I had to have a physical for it, and they did more tests on me than I can count." Hermione sighed. "The doctors have to make sure I'm in tip-top shape to go."  
  
"When will you get the results?" Hannah asked.  
  
"Soon, I think," Hermione told them. "The tests should all be back by now."   
  
"Maybe they are!" Hannah exclaimed.  
  
"I hope so," Hermione said, startled by Hannah's excitement.  
  
"Hermione, will you tell Ron that I'll come by later tonight? Or no, tell him I'll call, or tell him- tell him nothing!" Maggie told Hermione. "Tell him absolutely nothing!"  
  
"I have to tell him something," Hermione joked.  
  
"Well, tell him that I was upset, that I felt bad, not that I'll come and see him. I have to surprise him, ok?"   
  
Hermione laughed. "Whatever, Maggie. I'll tell him whatever you want."  
  
***  
  
It was almost sunset by the time that Hermione arrived at home. The evening was surprisingly clear compared to the storm they had experienced the night before. Hermione enjoyed her walk from her former apartment to her current one. The trees were starting to change colors, she noticed. She loved fall, the crispness of the air, the colorful palettes of trees, the temperature that was not too hot, not too cold, but just right. She regretted leaving the scenic outdoors, but her joy of telling Ron EVERYTHING Maggie had said and the need of seeing Harry brought her to the door of her small flat. Hermione fumbled with her keys; trying to fit the right one in the lock was bordering on impossible. "Almohora," Hermione whispered as she took her wand out of the pocket of her jacket. The door sprung open as soon as the words left her mouth. Hermione nervously looked around; surveying for muggles who had witnessed her small act of magic. Seeing no one, she sighed with relief and went inside.  
  
Someone did see; someone who was lurking in the shadows. He gasped at Hermione's act; his eyes read a feeling of fear mixed with anger. A witch, the he thought. She's a witch. He thought of the Salem witch hunting trials that he had read about and had seen in movies such as The Crucible. Maybe the puritans had the right idea, he thought. Witches are bad, aren't they? Look at the Wizard of Oz, Hansel and Gretel, Snow White; they all featured evil witches, the kind who cackled instead of laughed, who cast spells to turn people into toads, who melted in the water. He grinned. He'd throw some water on this witch and put her out.  
  
Hermione walked into her apartment. "I'm home!" she called.  
  
"Hey!" Harry greeted her. He and Ron were sitting on the couch, watching the television that Harry had convinced her to buy. 'We don't need one," she had said. 'Hermione," Harry had whined. 'I've never had one. I was never allowed to watch Dudley's.' Hermione had smiled, shaken her head, and finally given in.  
  
"What're you watching?" she asked.  
  
"Basketball," Ron explained. "We're watching basketball. It's a muggle sport. It has a hoop, and a ball-"  
  
"I know what basketball is," Hermione told him. "Have you been watching this all day?"  
  
Harry shook his head. "Nope, we've watched some old movies too." He grinned. "You know what's a really good movie?"   
  
"What?" Hermione asked with her hands on her hips. "What's a good movie?"  
  
"All these James Bond movies!" Ron shouted. "James Bond is awesome!" Ron sat straight up. "Bond, James Bond," he said in his best impression of Pierce Bronson.  
  
"That wasn't what I was going to say, but oh well," Harry stated.  
  
Hermione walked over to the couch and sat between them. Harry automatically put his arms around her. "How was it?" he asked.  
  
"What did Maggie say?" Ron questioned, tuning the television out. "Did you tell her I was sorry? Did you tell her that I'm really, really sorry? Did you tell her that I'll do anything to make it up to her? Did you tell her that I still want to marry her? Did you tell her that we can go where ever on our honeymoon?"  
  
"Maggie's really upset too, and it looks like she may forgive you," Hermione told him. "She's really sorry about everything."  
  
"Aren't we all?"  
  
"She said that she'll come over tonight, but not to tell you because she wants it to be a surprise," Hermione admitted.  
  
Ron threw his arms up. "Then why did you tell me!"  
  
Hermione smirked. "Because I felt like it."  
  
"Good excuse, Herm," Harry said as he leaned back against the couch. "Good excuse."  
  
"I certainly thought so."  
  
"Thanks, Hermione. I mean it, thanks," Ron stuttered.  
  
"You're welcome," she smiled.  
  
Ron placed his feet on the coffee table. "You're a great friend, you know that?"  
  
"I've been informed, thanks." Hermione bit her lip in frustration. "Please get your feet off the furniture."  
  
"God, you sound like my mother," Ron moaned.  
  
Harry turned away and released Hermione from his embrace. He looked at the wall that they shared with the McGills. The sounds of children, of family, contrasted with the sudden, awkward silence that filled the room. His thoughts wandered as he pictured his family he wanted, a twist on the TV families that Harry had watched with the Dursleys. God, he wanted that. He wanted it so bad it made his heart ache with desire.   
  
"Harry, are you ok?" Hermione asked, concerned.  
  
Stupid bitch, he thought. Goddamn bitch doesn't want children. He mentally scolded himself for even thinking such a thing. "I'm fine."  
  
"No, you're not," Hermione told him.  
  
"I'm fine," Harry repeated, this time much more forcefully. Ron quickly stood up and headed for the door. "Where are you going?"  
  
"To see Maggie," he answered.  
  
"Ron," Hermione said. "She said she'll come over. Just wait."  
  
"No!" Ron cried, startling his friends. "I mean, I really want to see her now." That, and I want to get out of here, he thought. Don't want to be here for a fight.  
  
"Whatever," Harry muttered.  
  
Hermione shot a dirty look in her husband's direction. "I'll walk you to the door," she suggested. She stood from the couch and walked to the door. Once out of Harry's earshot, she whispered, "I'm sorry. I have no clue what's wrong with him today."  
  
Ron shrugged. "It's ok."  
  
Hermione smiled. "Don't tell Maggie that I told you what she told me, all right?"  
  
"Huh?"  
  
She shook her head. "Never mind. Just say hi for me, okay?"  
  
Ron nodded and agreement and left.  
  
***  
  
Dusk was settling in outside. The sun had mostly disappeared beyond the horizon, yet rays of soft, purplish glow filled the sky. It was too light to view the stars, but the moon could clearly be seen. Outside, on the streets of muggle London, music filled the air: classic music from fancy restaurants and more modern music from dance clubs. The aroma of the sidewalk smelled of everything from warm spaghetti to daiquiris to sweet biscuits. The street Ron was traveling down now to Maggie's apartment was one of culture. There were so many restaurants, small unique stores, and homes. Of course, destroying the quintessence of the street, these places were sided by bars, dance clubs, and strip joints. Ron wasn't distracted by all the advertising burlesque shows; the only thing he wanted in the entire world was Maggie.  
  
He remembered the first time he had kissed Maggie. He and Maggie had been fighting, much like now, much like he had fought with Hermione during the majority of their schooling. She had been screaming at him, then he was screaming at her, and the next thing he remembered his lips were on hers. He didn't know how they had gotten that close, whether it had been one of them doing it subconsciously or by magic. All Ron remembered was how good their kiss felt, and how he had never wanted to stop.  
  
After that they couldn't be separated. He had before always been jealous of Harry and Hermione's relationship, well, not the entire David thing, but the closeness they shared. He had always wanted that. He could always talk to Maggie about anything and she would always listen. He felt more comfortable with an arm around her than in any place in the world.   
  
He recalled his family's reaction to their engagement. Bill and Charlie had given him a high-five and a pat on the back, Percy told him congratulations, Fred and George had wanted to play a prank on him before Mrs. Weasley told them off; they had gotten back into their idea of the joke shop after pulling the prank on Hermione at her and David's wedding. Ginny had screamed and thanked him. She and Maggie were best friends; she was ecstatic that she would be having a sister. The one that stood out the most was his mother's reaction. She had cried, and told him that his father would have been proud. Ron wished more than anything that his father was here now, to guide his family, to love them. That was one of the things he loved about Maggie; she made his heart not hurt as bad. With her, he could actually talk about his dad without crying.   
  
A tear fell from Ron's eyes as he hurried up and walked faster. I have to get to her, he thought. I hate feeling this empty.   
  
He had just reached a stop sign when he heard a scream. He stopped in his tracks, frozen still, unable to move, unable to breathe. He heard a scream. He heard screeching tires, the crunch of metal, the shattering of glass. He heard the honking of horns, the sudden thump as something hit. And, in the middle of it all, he heard a painful scream that made chills run up his spine and his stomach flop. He couldn't move. He couldn't do anything.  
  
Finally recovering from his trance, he dashed toward the accident. There were two cars, totaled, and several others with minor damage. There, lying on the ground-  
  
Ron started trembling. "Shit," he whispered.  
  
  
  
A/N: Cliffhanger! Well, you can actually pretty much figure out what happened. I know this was pretty lame, except for the end, but next part will have a lot more action and less rambling. In other words, it won't suck like this one did. Okay? Okay! There's going to be two more parts after this; I've already planned it out. Unless my computer screws up, which I hope it doesn't.  
  
Thanks to Someone the First, for telling me you liked Wedding March! After reading the Epilogue to "Digging the Hole" I went upstairs and finished this part. Oh, I loved "Digging the Hole, and then Climbing Out" so much! You rule!   
  
Thoughts: Ok, I know that GoF really wasn't H/H, and the books will most likely turn out R/H, but oh well. I like H/H. Not that I hate R/H or anything, it's just not my favorite scenario. But, if Ron and Hermione end up together, I don't think that Harry should find anyone. It actually might end up clouding the theme of the books if Harry finds major romance, since he is the main character and it's told through his POV. I still like Harry/Hermione though. :-)  
  
Disclaimer:   
  
Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Ginny Weasley, Hannah Abbott, Bill Weasley, Charlie Weasley, Percy Weasley, Fred Weasley, George Weasley, and Quidditch belong to J.K. Rowling.  
  
Maggie Chabert, David Mercenary, and Annemarie Linguini belong to me.  
  
James Bond belongs to whoever he belongs to, and Pierce Bronson belongs to himself.   



	3. Part Three

A/N: Part Three! It's the longest and most interesting part yet. There's a lot of action, and this part is pretty PG-13. Oh yeah, will you guys do me a favor? Will you go and read my fic 'Miracle'? I know you guys like this story but I need more feedback on that one. Thanks!  
  
  
After Ron left the flat, the apartment held a fragile, awkward silence. Hermione wanted to be outside in the freshly settled dusk, blended into the colorful foliage and the crisp, clean air, but she felt she couldn't leave Harry. He looked as if he were to fall apart at any moment, to burst into tears, to crash. She had asked over and over again if he was all right, and each time he denied that something was wrong. She knew something was; Harry had not acted like himself for at least twenty four hours, since they had talked about children. Why can't he just get over this? She asked herself. Dammit, why is he making me suffer in the silence? She could feel the tension in the atmosphere. She sat curled in a little ball on the chair facing him; she felt if she moved the world around her would shatter and fall in upon her. Or that Harry would shatter, and that was worse.   
  
"Sweetie, are you all right?" Hermione asked softly, afraid to upset him more.  
  
"I'm fine!" Harry snapped, his gaze not leaving the television. "God, Herm, I'm fine."  
  
"Are you?" Her voice had gathered strength and was forceful. She sat straight up and looked at Harry. He finally met her gaze, their eyes locking together, neither of them willing to look away or blink.  
  
Harry was the first to look away; he brought his eyes to the floor. "I think so," he whispered, his voice lacking the anger it held a few minutes ago.  
  
Hermione smiled and slid over to the couch next to him. "If you're not, I'm right here," she told him.  
  
He looked at her and smiled. "I don't feel too good, I may be coming down with something." He laid his head in her lap.  
  
"I know," she said, ruffling his hair. "I haven't felt too well lately either."  
  
He rolled his head up to face her. "What's wrong?"  
  
She shrugged. "I dunno." She held his hand. "It's been a rough week."  
  
He lightly kissed her fingers. "How so?"  
  
"Oh, I ran into David on my business trip."  
  
Harry sat straight up. "You ran into that asshole? What did he say? What did he do?"  
  
Hermione grinned at his anxious expression. "First thing he did was introduce me to his wife."  
  
Harry snorted. "He's married?"  
  
"Yes. To a nineteen year old lingerie model named Annamarie Linguini."  
  
He shook his head. "Poor girl. Did he say anything else to you?"  
  
She nodded. "Second thing he did was hit on me in front of his wife."   
  
"I want to beat the crap out of that bastard," Harry grumbled.   
  
Hermione threw her feet across his lap and put her arms around his neck. "You'd do that for me?" she joked.  
  
Harry leaned in closer so that their noses touched. "Damn right. I'd do anything for my Hermione."  
  
She laughed and kissed him. "Anything?"  
  
"Absolutely anything," he breathed before he kissed her again. They leaned back onto the couch, kissing and holding each other. "Hey Herm," he whispered between kisses.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Have we ever done it on this couch?"  
  
"Harry!" she cried.  
  
He kissed her neck. "Well, it's new. I didn't know." He dragged his lips back to hers.  
  
The phone rang. "Ugh, get up. I have to go answer the phone," Hermione whined.  
  
"Don't. Just ignore it."  
  
"It could be my parents," she told him.  
  
"It could also be Bob Middle from downstairs telling us to knock it off. He's such a grump. You don't want to answer it then, do you?"  
  
"It could be my parents," she repeated.  
  
He frowned. "Tell them we're busy."  
  
Hermione laughed. "I'm sure my parents would just love to know what we were about to do. Hey mom, I'm about to have sex with my husband, can I call you back? I don't think so."  
  
Harry shook his head. "All right, all right, go answer it." Hermione slugged his shoulder before walking off to answer the phone.   
  
"Hello," she greeted the person on the other end. Harry fixed his glasses and tried to smooth back his hair, using the turned off television as a mirror. He turned around to watch Hermione carry on with her conversation with the caller.  
  
"Yes, I'm fine," she said. "What's wrong?" Harry watched how her hair swayed as she moved, how her shirt fell at the rim of her black pants.  
  
"What!" she exclaimed, her face turning white. "That's not possible-" She sat down in a chair to steady herself. What's wrong, Harry mouthed. She shook her head, waved him away, and turned so she couldn't see him.  
  
"Three years," she said into the receiver. "I don't understand." She bit her lip. "I think there's some kind of mistake."  
  
She listened a bit longer, drumming her nails over the table. "Yes, I am aware of my options. Yes, I'm okay. Goodbye." With that she threw the phone at the wall. "Shit!" she screamed.  
  
"Sweetheart, what's the matter?" Harry asked softly.  
  
She turned to him, her face red with anger. "This is all your fault!"  
  
"My fault? Love, what's wrong?" he asked, walking over to her.  
  
"I hate you! It's all your f****** fault!" She screamed.  
  
"Hermione," he whispered, putting his arm around her waist. "What's wrong?"   
  
She shoved him away. "Everything!" She stomped to the bedroom and slammed the door.   
  
He knocked on the door. "Herm?" No answer. He tried to open the door; it was locked. "Come on, Herm. Open the damn door."  
  
"F*** you," was the response.   
  
"Sweetie?" he said, frustrated with her. "Will you at least tell me what's wrong?" He looked around for his wand to unlock the door, but then remembered that it was inside the bedroom.   
  
The doorbell rang. Harry took one last glance at the door before walking to their front door. "What is it?" he snapped.  
  
There stood Ron. His face was red and blotchy, his eyes bloodshot, and his clothes were covered in a red stain. "It's Maggie," he managed before bursting into sobs.   
  
"What happened?"  
  
Ron wiped his tears. "She was hit by a car, Harry. She was hit by a f****** car!"  
  
"What?" Harry cried. "What happened?"  
  
Ron sniffed. "A car hit her. He stopped, and a bunch of cars ran into him. Then he ran, Harry. He ran. And you know what, we'll never find him because the car was stolen. We can't exactly trace him now that he doesn't have a car. We'll never find him! Oh, god, Maggie."  
  
"Is she all right?"   
  
Ron glared at him. "What do you think? She's at the hospital now, but the paramedics don't think she'll last much longer. They doubt she'll make it through surgery; she was hit so hard."  
  
"Did anyone else get hurt?"  
  
"Do I give a shit if anyone else was hurt?"  
  
"I'm so sorry."  
  
"I'm sorry for me too. I'm so goddamn sorry for myself I'm finding it hard to breathe," Ron snapped.  
  
"Why are you here?" Harry asked.  
  
"I didn't have anyone else to turn to," he whispered.  
  
"Is that-" Harry asked, pointing to the stains on Ron's front.   
  
He nodded. "Yes, it's blood. Maggie's blood." He started crying again. "Can you get me to the hospital? I'm to upset to apperate. Half of me would end up there and the other half would be in Taiwan."  
  
Harry didn't laugh at Ron's weak attempt at a joke; he just nodded and walked back into the apartment to get Hermione.  
  
"Hermione," he called, banging on the door. "Hermione, get your ass out here now. Maggie's in the hospital, and we're going."  
  
Harry heard shuffling in the room, then heard the door unlock. Hermione walked out, her eyes red from crying. "What happened?" she asked softly.  
  
"She was hit by a car," Harry informed her. "Ron's by the door." Without wasting any time, Hermione ran to the door and flung her arms around Ron.  
  
"I'm so sorry," she whispered.  
  
Ron didn't answer. He just looked at Hermione's blotchy face, then at Harry, then returned his gaze to Hermione. "What's wrong with you?"  
  
She shook her head. "I don't want to talk about it now."  
  
"Well, it'd be nice if I knew, you know, being your husband and all" Harry snapped.  
  
"Harry," she whined.  
  
"Hermione, sweetheart, what the hell is it?"  
  
She bit her lip. "I'm pregnant." She glared at Harry. "Are you happy? That person on the phone was the doctor with my physical results. Guess what, I'm pregnant! Isn't that great for you?"  
  
Harry's jaw dropped. "Hermione, I-"  
  
"Get your ass in the damn car!" Hermione screamed, turning to leave.  
  
***  
  
Ron hated the hospital, especially at night. It was almost tolerable in the day, but in the middle of the night with all the sirens and paramedics rushing in, it was unbearable. The three were at Merlin Magical Medical Hospital, one of the biggest wizarding hospitals in the world. As a statistic, the hospital was highly impressive, but not from the inside. Ron had been here four times now, when he was born, when Ginny was born, when his father died, and now. He sat in the orange plastic chair in the waiting room, numb. The white of the walls blurred together and just became one big blob of nothing. Of nothing.  
  
He had been sitting in this very chair when he had gotten news that his father had died. The doctor had come out and spoken to his mother, then she had told her children. He didn't even remember what she said. All he had really gotten out of the monologue was 'father' and 'dead.' And now here he was, waiting for the news that Maggie was dead.  
  
Dammit! He didn't want another goddamn cause! He didn't want another thing to devote his life to as he did WADD (wizards against drunk driving). He didn't want to go to meetings with hit-and-run victims. He didn't want that. He wanted his Maggie, the one who made him laugh, the one who made him smile, the one who was now making him cry.  
  
Meanwhile, in the lobby, Harry and Hermione where fighting. "What do you mean, it's all my fault?" he yelled.  
  
"If it wasn't for you this wouldn't have happened!"  
  
"Oh," Harry mocked. "I am so sorry. You're going to have a baby. I'm so sorry."  
  
"You should be!"  
  
He sighed. "I think you missed the sarcasm, Herm."  
  
She narrowed her eyes. "No, I chose to ignore it."  
  
"Just tell me, what is so wrong with being pregnant? What is so bad?"  
  
A tall, plump, middle aged woman walked up to Hermione. "You're pregnant?"  
  
"Er, yes I am," she answered, taken aback.  
  
"Congratulations!" the woman cried.  
  
"Thanks," Hermione said, watching the woman as she walked off.  
  
"See," Harry pointed out. "She sees it as a good thing. Why can't you adopt that philosophy?"   
  
"I don't want kids!"  
  
"Well, you should have used better birth control!"  
  
She pointed his finger at him. "Don't you dare turn this on me, Harry Potter. Don't you dare!"  
  
"You're turning it on me!" he cried.  
  
"It's your fault!"  
  
"How," he said, placing his hands on his hips. "How is this my fault and not yours?"  
  
"You must have done something!"  
  
"What, replace your pills with Tylenol?"  
  
"You might have."  
  
"Hermione," he said. "What the hell is your problem?"   
  
"I, unlike you, have none!" she screamed.  
  
He sighed. "Hermione, look at me." He walked to her and grabbed her hand. "We're going to have a baby. We're going to bring something into this world that we made, something that is us yet is completely different from ourselves."  
  
She yanked her hand from his grasp. "I don't want children."  
  
"What do you want, then?" he asked.  
  
"I want a career! I don't want to give that up for the sake of children! I don't want to give up my friends, my job, sex." At that moment, several of the mothers in the room put their hands over their children's ears. "Harry, I don't think I should have to give these things up because of a stupid kid!"  
  
"Who's asking you to give them up?"  
  
"You are!" she screamed.  
  
"Hermione," he said softly. "I want you to have a career. I want you to have friends, and believe me, I want sex." The mothers once again clamped their hands over their children's ears. "I'm not asking you to give everything you hold dear up. I'm asking you to have a baby, something else you can love."  
  
"You know what David said to me?" she asked, suddenly changing the subject.  
  
"What did that bloody bastard say to you?"  
  
"He asked how the Mr. Family Man I married was, and how were our ten children."  
  
"What the hell?"  
  
"Harry, I don't want to come across as that type of person!"  
  
"Maybe I do!"  
  
She glared at him. "Then maybe we should go our separate ways."  
  
Ron, who had been watching the entire situation to get his mind of Maggie, decided on that moment to interfere. "What is wrong with you people?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Look at me," Ron ordered. "My fiancée is in a coma-"  
  
"She is? You've heard?" Hermione interrupted.   
  
Ron shook his head. "Yes, she's in a coma. Anyway, back to what I was saying, the woman I love is in a coma. She's probably going to die and here you two are, out here in the lobby having a shouting match about something, while I admit is important, is not important enough to tear you two apart. You love each other, right?"  
  
Harry smiled at Hermione. "Yeah."  
  
She grinned back. "Yes."  
  
"Then kiss and make up," Ron continued. "Life is too short to fight. Acknowledge what you have left, that you have each other, because god knows I'm not as lucky. Go home and love on each other, because you never know how much time you have left with each other."  
  
"We're so sorry," Hermione whispered.  
  
Ron waved his hand. "All the apologies in the world won't make her well. Just go home and relish that you have each other."  
  
"You don't need us to stay, for support?" Harry asked.  
  
Ron shook his head. "No, go. I need to be alone anyway. Go home and thank god that you have each other." He wiped away a tear. "And pray for Maggie. I think that's all that's humanly possible for you to give."  
  
"We will," Hermione agreed, hugging Ron. "Are you sure you'll be ok?"  
  
"No, I can guarantee that I'm not, but I won't be anymore ok with you here."  
  
Nodding, Harry gently reached out and took Hermione's hand and led her wordlessly back to the car.  
  
***  
  
The love they made that night had a rushed, automatic feel to it, as if they were doing it not out of affection but out of fear that this time could be their last. It lacked the usual giggling and kissing and nuzzling, but felt almost cold and empty. When it was over, the husband and wife held each other tightly, clutching to the other for dear life.   
  
"I love you," she whispered.  
  
He lightly kissed her forehead. "I love you too."  
  
"I'm scared," she whispered. "It could all be over tomorrow, you know. I might never be able to hold you again."  
  
"Sweetheart," he told her. "If you think about it, then you'll waste your life worrying. If something does happen, it'll happen."  
  
"You're certainly concerned," she snapped.  
  
"You want me to worry endlessly about you getting hurt?"  
  
"I wish you would."  
  
"God," he whispered, pulling her closer. "You know that if something happened to you, I'd die. I think I'll kill myself."  
  
She sat straight up. "Don't ever let me hear you say that!"  
  
"Why not? I want to be with you, always."  
  
"Don't do that to Ron," she whispered.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Don't do that to him. Don't make him lose another person again. If I die, and you kill yourself, then he'd have lost four of the most important people in his life. Don't do that to him."  
  
"I never thought of that," he admitted.  
  
"That's your problem," she said, settling back into his arms, laying her head on his chest. "You don't think."  
  
"That's your job," he joked, squeezing her hand.  
  
She smiled. "Don't joke, this is to be romantic."   
  
"Oh?" He grinned and lightly kissed her fingers. "I'm sorry, I wasn't aware of that."  
  
"You certainly are setting yourself up for some good insults, you know that?"  
  
"I love how you contain yourself and not comment on my ignorance."  
  
She kissed his chin. "What ignorance? Cheer up, you're perfect."  
  
"As are you." He placed his hand on her lower stomach region. "As is junior here."  
  
She scooted back so he couldn't touch her. "Don't talk about this now."  
  
He sighed. "Are you still going on that?"  
  
"I don't want it. I don't."  
  
"What do you want to do then? It's not like we have many options."  
  
"I want an abortion," she whispered.  
  
He sat straight up and looked at her. "No way."  
  
"It's my body; I can choose."  
  
"It's my kid!"  
  
"And mine," she pointed out.  
  
"Fine," he said. "Bloody hell, fine. Just do whatever." He climbed out of bed and wrapped a blanket around his waist.   
  
"Where are you going?" she asked.  
  
"To sleep on the couch. Goodnight DEAR."  
  
"Don't-" she started.  
  
"Don't what? I'm sorry, sweetheart, but you've genuinely pissed me off."  
  
"Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't want to piss off hero boy here," she said sarcastically.  
  
"Goodnight, let the bed bugs bite, bitch," he said, stomping out of the room.  
  
"Go to hell!" she cried after him, throwing his pillow at the doorway.  
  
***  
  
The hospital held a hostile tension to it. Harry and Hermione weren't speaking to each other, and Ron was trying to deal with Maggie's family and keep from breaking down at the same time. Ron was standing, talking to the Chaberts while Hermione and Harry sat on either side of the row of orange plastic chairs, each pretending to be involved in a magazine while occasionally sending the other dirty looks. Ginny was there also, standing next to Ron, doing all she could to stifle her crying.  
  
"My baby girl!" Chloe Chabert cried. "My poor, poor baby girl."  
  
"I thought I was your baby girl," pouted Maggie's little sister Angie.  
  
"How are you doing?" Ethan Chabert asked Ron.  
  
"Not very well," he admitted.  
  
Chloe wiped her tears and gave Ron a hug. "I know that it is as hard for you as us." She smiled slightly. "Have you heard about her?"  
  
"No."  
  
Ginny blew her nose. "God, I can't believe this is happening."  
  
Chloe nodded. "It's so horrid. Oh, Maggie!"  
  
"God, I hate myself," Ron whispered. Ginny reached over and hugged her brother.  
  
"Whatever for?" Ethan asked. "This isn't your fault."  
  
Ron shook his head. "The last words Maggie and exchanged, were, er, not pleasant."  
  
"They fought?" Angie asked. "Wow, I didn't know Maggie could fight. She's such a goody-goody."  
  
"Do hush, Angie," Chloe ordered. "Oh wait, here comes the doctor now."  
  
Dr. Longbottom strolled next to the group. "Hello, Mr. Weasley, Miss Weasley, the Chaberts-"  
  
"Skip the pretense Neville," Ron directed. "We've known each other since we were eleven. Call me Ron."  
  
"And me Ginny," she added. "I mean, in my third year we did go to the stupid Yule Ball together."  
  
"That was quite lame, wasn't it?" Neville said. "I mean-"  
  
"Get on with it, Neville. How is she?" Ron questioned.  
  
Neville sighed. "She's showing a lot of brain activity, which is very good. I'd say her chances are about fifty/fifty."  
  
"How much brain activity did my dad show before he died?" Ron demanded. "I know you saw him too; you were the one to break the news to me."  
  
Neville sighed again. "Your father went brain dead after the car crash. He never showed any brain activity. That's why your mother told us to pull the plug."  
  
"What!" Ron screamed. "You pulled the plug? You mean he could have lived? You killed him?"  
  
"Ron, he would have been a vegetable," Neville argued. "He was better off dead."  
  
"How long could he have lasted, as a vegetable?" Ron asked.  
  
"Ron," Ginny warned. "Don't do this. Don't dredge this back up."  
  
Ron ignored her. "How long, Neville? How long?"  
  
"I don't know!" Neville cried. "A day, a week, a month, a year? It's all the same to a vegetable."  
  
"Could he have been alive now?"   
  
"Ron!" Ginny said. "Even if he had been alive he would have never been the same! He would have never woken up! He deserves more than that. I'm glad they did that! I support mum's decision."   
  
"Well, Ginny Weasley," Ron yelled. "You are a goddamn traitor."  
  
"What the hell is your problem?" she screamed.  
  
"You! You are a traitor to the Weasley name. We true Weasleys do not let others of our clan die. We stick together, we do what's right-"  
  
"Which was to pull the plug!" Ginny argued. "Would you rather have him be a vegetable?"  
  
Ron ignored her again. "Neville, you damn better not kill Maggie. You may have killed my dad, but you're not killing my fiancée!"  
  
"Pity," Angie commented. "I really wanted to see Maggie dead." With that statement, Ginny slapped Angie across so face it sent her flailing to the floor.  
  
"Don't you ever, ever talk about my best friend like that," Ginny growled between gritted teeth. "Do you understand?"  
  
Angie backed away, still on the floor. "Sorry," she muttered.  
  
"Perhaps you two might want to go home," Chloe suggested, eyeing Ginny and Ron.  
  
They both shook their heads. "We're just upset," Ginny explained. "Weasleys are known for getting quite emotional."  
  
"Obviously," Neville muttered before stalking off in the direction of the emergency room.  
  
"Well, why don't you two sit down," Ethan suggested.  
  
"Good idea," Ron said, sitting in the orange plastic chairs between Harry and Hermione. "You two still fighting?" he asked.  
  
"Who me?" Hermione questioned. "Fighting with whom?"  
  
"Your husband, perhaps?" Ron said.  
  
"Oh, him? I wasn't quite sure he existed other than the fact that he keeps on giving me dirty looks."  
  
"If she would just get over her fear of commitment, she would be happy about her pregnancy," Harry snapped.  
  
"You're pregnant?" Ginny asked.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"You are?" Chloe inquired.  
  
"Yes, yes, I'm pregnant," she groaned.  
  
"Congratulations!" Chloe exclaimed.  
  
"Oh, Hermione!" Ginny cried. "Now we have to throw you a baby shower and oh, we have to go shopping! You need a crib and a- I forget what they're called, they're what babies eat out of- and clothes!"  
  
"Ginny, I-"  
  
Ginny kept on speaking. "And we'll have to go and buy paint and fix up that guest room of yours into a nursery. We'll need some little furniture, some cute blankets, a mobile, stuffed animals-. Oh, Hermione, this will be so fun!"  
  
"Fun?" Hermione questioned.  
  
"Of course!" she exclaimed. "Now, when are you expecting? How pregnant are you?"  
  
"Not very. Maybe a month."  
  
"So we'll have plenty of time! Oh, I'm so happy for you sweetheart! You'll be so happy." Ginny put her hands on her hips. "Now, of course, in return for me helping with the baby you must help me find a boyfriend! One that Ron won't hate, of course. It's horrid dating when you have six brothers, and Ron's the worst of all of them."  
  
Hermione laughed, but said nothing. "Oh, Herm," Ginny continued. "I'm so exited. I was in the mall the other day, you know, the muggle one, and I found this little store with the cutest baby clothes. I was thinking, who do I know who has a baby who I can shop for? Now, dilemma solved, it's you!"  
  
Ron grinned. "I think you're scaring her, Gin."  
  
"As if that wasn't easy enough," Harry muttered.  
  
"You shut up," Ron told Harry.  
  
"The store had these little lace booties- do you know if it's a boy or a girl?" Ginny asked.  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"Oh well, you'll know soon enough. Until then, we'll buy things that are yellow and blue that don't really have a specific gender, you know what I mean? Anyway, when do want to go shopping? Today? Tomorrow?"  
  
"Not today," Hermione said. "I don't feel well."  
  
"Morning sickness?" Harry asked sweetly, forgetting that the two were fighting.  
  
"Maybe," Hermione admitted. "I feel nauseous."  
  
"Yes," Chloe agreed. "Then it's morning sickness. Why don't you go home?"  
  
"I think that'll be a good idea. I want to take a nap," Hermione said, standing up. "Are you staying?" she asked Harry.  
  
"Yes," he replied coldly, remembering their fight the night before.  
  
"Oh, well, I'll see you at home," Hermione said, taken aback by his sudden change in mood. "Goodbye. Call me when you hear something new about Maggie, all right?"  
  
Ginny nodded in agreement. "Sure we will. Now go home and ge some rest and you'll feel better. Then we'll go shopping, okay? And Harry can come if he can be nice," she said, shooting a dirty look at Harry.  
  
"Agreed. Bye!" Hermione called as she turned to leave.  
  
"Hermione," Harry called after her.   
  
"Yeah?" she asked hopefully.  
  
"Can you walk home and leave the car?"  
  
"Oh," she said, disappointed. "Sure."  
  
"Herm," he called again.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Be careful, okay?"  
  
She grinned. "Okay." She fought the urge to run to him and throw her arms around him; instead, she turned around and left.  
  
"Now why are you being so mean?" Ginny demanded.  
  
"Me?" Harry inquired.  
  
"Yes, you. What's your problem?"  
  
"She wants an abortion," Harry said lamely.  
  
Ginny shrugged. "She'll come around."  
  
"What do you mean?"   
  
She snorted. "I would think that you two, knowing her better than I do, would have figured this out! Hermione's a bit of a pessimist. She sees this for only the bad things, not the good."  
  
Ron nodded. "That makes sense. She doesn't want early morning feedings and diaper changes. To think of it, who does want those things?"  
  
"What?" Harry asked.  
  
"No one wants those things. Yet they have children for the good reasons, and just deal with the bad." Ron explained  
  
"And Hermione is a perfectionist," Ginny added. "She probably does see this as a way to lose her career, and she loves her career."  
  
"I never said that," Harry whispered.  
  
"You need to be more understanding," Ginny told him.  
  
"And compassionate," Ron added.  
  
"And a bit less sure. She's pretty confused right now, and your confidence in this isn't helping," Chloe put in.  
  
"That's a good one," Ginny told Chloe.  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"God," Harry groaned.  
  
***  
  
Hermione strolled out of Diagon Alley and onto a muggle street. She passed a small park and decided to rest there. She laid on one of the benches, staring at the brilliant blue sky, her mind a jumble of thoughts. What am I going to do? Is Harry right? Is Ginny right? Am I right?  
  
"Excuse me," a woman's voice sounded from her left.  
  
Hermione sat straight up. "I'm so sorry."  
  
The woman smiled. "No, I'm afraid I've just left my bag on this bench." She had shoulder length auburn hair, bright green eyes, and a small, button nose. Hermione noticed that she was pushing a baby carriage.  
  
Hermione leaned in the baby carriage to get a better look at the child inside. "Is it a boy or a girl?"  
  
"A boy," she answered.  
  
"He's absolutely adorable," Hermione commented.  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"I'm expecting myself, and I just can't get excited about it." Hermione sighed.  
  
"Really?" the woman questioned. "You're pregnant?"  
  
Hermione nodded. "Yes."  
  
"When are you expecting?"  
  
"In about eight months."  
  
"And you're not really excited about it?" the woman asked. "My name is Hyacinth Rettop, and yes, my parents were nuts about flowers, and you?"  
  
"Hermione Potter."  
  
Hyacinth smiled. "Why aren't you happy about it?"  
  
Hermione sighed. "I don't really know. I have so much going for me right now, I don't really want it right now. My husband's ecstatic, but I can't seem to share his joy."  
  
Hyacinth nodded. "I think I know what you mean. Do you have doubts, or is it that you just don't want a baby?"  
  
"I guess it's that I have doubts," Hermione admitted. "I mean, what if I'm a terrible mother?"  
  
She laughed. "Everyone thinks that, sweetheart. Everyone wonders about that."  
  
"And another thing," Hermione continued. "What if I have this kid, and I don't love it? What if I can't love it?"  
  
"I had the same thoughts," Hyacinth said. "But the minute I saw H- my baby- I-." She paused. "Hermione, do you love your parents? Do you love your husband?"  
  
"Very much so."  
  
"You will love your child ten times as much as you love them," Hyacinth said. "You've heard of people doing crazy things for their children, people DYING for there children. It's love that powers it."  
  
"I hope so," Hermione whispered. "I hope you're right."  
  
"I am," Hyacinth laughed. "Believe me, I am."  
  
"I'm just so scared," Hermione said softly. "My husband, I mean, he's so sure of everything. I'm scared. I'm responsible for another life."  
  
Hyacinth smiled. "He's just as scared as you are. Sometimes people deal with fear differently. He hides his and you keep yours out in the open. It does take a lot of guts to talk about such a sensitive topic with a stranger."  
  
Hermione shook her head. "I feel as if I know you."  
  
Hyacinth laughed. "Maybe in another life. I got my palm read once and I was told that I was a nurse in the war of 1812. Can you believe that?"  
  
"I don't believe in palm reading and such."  
  
"Neither do I," Hyacinth agreed. "Well, it's been very nice meeting you, but I do need to run."  
  
"Thank you for everything," Hermione said. "Could I have your phone number, you know, to talk some more? If you don't mind, of course."  
  
"Certainly," Hyacinth smiled. She wrote her number down on a candy wrapper on the ground, then handed it to Hermione. "Good luck, dear."  
  
"Thank you." Hermione then walked off towards her apartment.  
  
It was mid-afternoon now, and Hermione felt as weights had been lifted from her. Talking to Hyacinth, another mother, had really helped her and boosted her confidence. Maybe we'll give this a try, she thought as she walked up the stairs to her flat. She took out her key and unlocked the door.  
  
Something was wrong. Hermione could feel it as soon as she entered the apartment. The air had a strange feeling in it, as if someone had been there…. It smelled funny; it felt different. She pulled her wand out of her pocket. You know, it'll be probably be nothing. The other night you practically killed Ron for nothing, she thought. Get a grip. Relax. You're probably imagining this all.  
  
She felt a blow come to her side, a quick, sudden hit. She dropped her wand and fell to the floor. Pain ran up her stomach, making her want to vomit again and again, making her dizzy. The baby, she thought. God, the baby was hit. She quickly got to her feet and turned to look at what hit her.  
  
It was someone much bigger than herself, someone she recognized, and he had her wand and was twirling it between his fingers. "Shit," she whispered.  
  
"What's this?" the man asked. "A magic wand? You're a witch. You know what they used to do to witches in America? In Salem?"  
  
Hermione nodded her head, but he continued. "They killed 'em. Killed 'em all. Would they have done that if they were not bad?"  
  
"I'm not bad," Hermione said softly.  
  
"Sure you're not, witch," he said. "That's what you want me to think." He raised a poker from the fire place. "You and that husband of yours. Always acted like newlyweds, but now I guess that all that commotion in the middle of the night was spells, right? Don't answer; I don't want to listen to anything you want to say. I'm just going to kill you."  
  
Hermione didn't know what to do. So she screamed. Yet no one heard her.  
  
***  
  
Harry felt a sudden, sharp pain in his stomach. Then another, then another. "Ow," he whined.  
  
"What's wrong?" Ginny asked.  
  
"I feel sick."  
  
"Well, go home," Ron suggested.  
  
Harry shook his head. "It's not that. Something's, something's wrong. Someone's screaming. Someone's hurt. Something's wrong. I can feel it in my bones."  
  
"You're probably feeling guilty about being mean to Hermione," Ginny suggested.  
  
"Nah, he just wants to be hero boy and save the world," Ron grumbled.   
  
Harry shook his head again. "I'm going home. Something's wrong, and I would feel much better knowing she's okay."  
  
"Go then," Ron ordered. "We're fine here."  
  
"You sure?"  
  
"Positive. Go."   
  
"Oh, the power of love," Chloe cried. "It's so sweet!" She glared at Ethan. "Why don't you worry about me like that?"  
  
Ethan shrugged. "Being married to you for thirty years, I don't really tend to worry about you. You can take care of yourself."  
  
"Such the romantic, aren't you?" Chloe moaned.  
  
Harry turned around and practically ran to the car. He pulled out of the parking place and drove as quickly as he could to their little flat without getting in an accident. When he arrived he ran from the car, inside the building, up the stairs (the elevator was too slow) and up to apartment 277.  
  
The door wasn't locked; it was left slightly ajar. Harry looked in. "Shit," he whispered. The living room was a mess. Tables were flipped over, lamps were on the floor, couch cushions were all over the room.  
  
"Hermione?" he called. "Sweetheart?" His voice shook, his heart ached with fear. "Hermione?"  
  
He heard a muffled scream from their bedroom. "Hermione!" Forgetting all pretense, he raced into the bedroom. There he saw something that he would never forget as long as he lived.  
  
There was Bob Middle, standing in Harry's bedroom, his clothes torn, covered in blood, and holding a bloody poker stick that was usually housed by the fireplace.  
  
And laying at his feet was Hermione, beaten and bruised and also covered in blood. She looked up at him with her scared, hurt brown eyes, making Harry shake harder. "Stupefy," he whispered, pointing his wand at Bob. Then he kneeled next to his wife, kissing her cheek, getting blood on his lips.  
  
  
  
A/N: Another Cliffhanger. Okay, if you really want to know what happened and if Hermione's ok, well, you'll just have to wait until the conclusion. Do you want a hint? Huh? Well, I'm not giving you one. I never liked Bob, so he's the one who's the witch hater and hurt Hermione. I could have made it less gory, but I decided I also could have made it more gory and left it the way it was. One more part! Hooray!  
  
Note: Will you people please read my fic 'Miracle'? Please, please, please, pretty please? Please read AND review it? I like it and no one's really reading it! It's a bit darker than this story, but I really like it. I've already posted parts one and two.  
  
Alicia Spinnet- Why did you take down Hogwarts to Beanstown? I loved that fic! Are you going to finish it? Please do!  
  
And thanks to Firenze for being so supportive of me and always reviewing my fics. It's always motivational and it makes me want to write more! :-)  
  
Disclaimer:  
  
Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Ginny Weasley, the entire Weasley clan, Neville Longbottom, belong to J.K. Rowling.  
  
Maggie Chabert, all the Chaberts, Bob Middle, Hyacinth Rettop, belong to me.   



	4. Part Four

A/N: This is the last part. I'm considering doing a sequel, but there are more details about that at the end. Read and review!  
  
Harry sat again on the orange plastic chairs which he had became familiar with earlier that day. Orange was seeming to be a depressing color. He buried his face in his hands, his mind running through the last hour or so. Calling the paramedics, coming to take her to the hospital, running her into the emergency room, telling him to stay here, in the waiting room. He vaguely remembered Bob being taken into custody, but he might have made that up. Ron, Ginny, and the Chaberts were around him, trying to be of comfort but he didn't care; he didn't want anyone.  
  
He was afraid that he was going nuts. He wanted to scream and throw things and to cry and to vomit all at the same time. He felt like his insides were being torn out, his inner organs were leaving his body and being left on the floor. He felt exposed, vulnerable, unsafe. He hadn't felt this way since Hermione's wedding to David, and this time the feeling was more intense. He didn't know who to blame. Was it his fault? He should have gone home with her. But, no, he was so mad at her that he let her go when she was already feeling bad. Harry shook his head; Hermione could have usually taken care of herself. Was it her fault for not fighting back? No, she tried. Lamps were broken, their flat was in chaos, Bob himself had been beaten up pretty badly. She's fierce and strong for someone who's short and small. It's not like you're tall yourself, he thought. No, it's Bob's fault, he concluded. Goddamn bastard. If Hermione isn't ok, I'm going to kill him. Strangle him with my damn bare hands.  
  
Whomever fault it was, Harry had gone home to see his wife on the floor of their bedroom, beaten and bloody. Harry couldn't shake the image from his mind, her laying in a pool of blood. He had blood on him, he realized. Her blood. He smelled his shirt; it reeked of blood, the sharp, pungent odor. He still had the taste of her blood in his mouth from where he had kissed her cheek, her forehead, her nose. The center of his chest was literally aching, physically hurting him. He recalled the few words Hermione had uttered before she had passed out. "Bob… hurt… baby… Hyacinth… love," she had whispered. Please, god, let her be ok.  
  
Ginny was crying softly beside him, and on the other side of her Ron was staring off into space. Chloe Chabert was fingering her wedding ring nervously, Ethan was passing, and Angie was flirting with a male doctor that looked familiar to Harry. Ernie Macmillan? Harry looked down at his own wedding band, twirling it around his finger. Three years of marriage, and it could all be over because one occult hater had to take his anger on my wife. My life could be over. He couldn't think about how he would live without her; perhaps he would kill himself. Hermione had warned him not to, but he didn't see any option if she was dead.  
  
The word dead made chills run up his spine. Oh, god, please don't be dead. Please. He remembered a day, a fall day like today, two years ago. He and Hermione were having a picnic.  
  
"I love fall," she had said, motioning to the colorful woods behind her. Harry had watched her, her bushy brown hair falling beyond the shoulders of her wool, red sweater. Her khaki pants were too long, he had noticed. One could barely see her brown, leather oxfords  
  
"I love you," he had responded, not taking his eyes off of her.  
  
She had grinned. "I know. You married me, didn't you?"  
  
He had leaned over and kissed her. "It was the best decision I've ever made." *  
  
He wanted more moments like that. He remembered the first time he kissed her, outside of the restaurant where she had had her rehearsal dinner for David's and her wedding. His eyes watered up with tears. He bent his head so that no one would see his sobs.  
  
"Are you all right?" Ginny inquired.  
  
Harry shook his head, not being able to open his mouth for the fear that he'd scream.  
  
"I'm sorry," Ginny whispered. "I-I- oh god." Her voice trembled. "I don't know what to do. This sucks."  
  
"Yes, it does," Harry agreed. "Very much so."   
  
"Harry?" came a voice from in front of him. Harry looked up at the figure, dressed in blue scrubs.  
  
"Yeah, Neville?"   
  
Neville sighed. "Harry, why don't we go for a little walk, ok?"  
  
"Where?"  
  
"Just around the hospital."  
  
"Ok." Harry stood up and walked in silence next to Neville. It was an awkward silence, both of them were bursting to speak, but didn't want to hear the truth.  
  
"Harry," Neville finally said.  
  
"Is she dead?" Harry asked.  
  
"No." Neville shook his head. "Harry, I had a little speech prepared. Please let me continue."  
  
"All right."  
  
"I have bad news and good news."  
  
"Ok."  
  
"Good news is that Hermione is going to be okay. She's lost a lot of blood, she is cut and bruised and is going to be extremely sore, but she'll be fine."  
  
"And the bad news?" Harry questioned, almost afraid to hear it.  
  
"She lost the baby."  
  
Harry felt as if he been punched in the stomach. "What?"  
  
"It's dead, Harry. We couldn't save it. She got hit in the wrong place and the baby was dead by the time she arrived at the hospital."  
  
"I should have called sooner," Harry whispered. "I wasted time."  
  
Neville shook his head. "It still would have died. You didn't do anything wrong. Don't blame yourself. It was that crazy man, not you."  
  
"Could she still have children? I mean-"  
  
Neville nodded. "Yes. All her organs and such are fine, if that's what you mean. She can have kids, and I wish the best of luck for you."  
  
"Neville?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Is she out of surgery?"  
  
Neville checked his watch. "She should be. Would you like to see her?"  
  
"Please."  
  
"Harry, I'm so sorry."  
  
"It's not your fault."  
  
"I know, but I feel bad. I hate having to break the news to people about these things. It's what I hate about my job."  
  
Harry nodded. "I would hate it too."  
  
"Her room is down that hallway, number 143. Do you want me to show you?"  
  
"No, I'll be fine."  
  
"Good luck," Neville called as he walked away.   
  
***  
  
Harry walked into the room and almost gasped at what he saw. He saw Hermione, asleep, laying down in the small, stiff bed, covered in cuts and bruises. She had an IV on her arm, and her face was red and swollen. Harry sat in the chair near her bead and took her hand. Not wanting to wake her up, he ran one finger down her palm. A long life line, he noticed with a grin.  
  
"Harry?" she murmured.  
  
He scooted closer to her. "I'm here, sweetie. I'm here."  
  
She squeezed his hand. "Am I going to be all right?"  
  
Harry nodded. "You've lost a lot of blood, but I think that's what the IV's for. You're going to be okay."  
  
"What about internal bleeding?"  
  
He shook his head. "I think you'll be ok, Herm. I trust the doctors."  
  
"Unlike Ron," she added.  
  
"Yeah," he chuckled. The two forced laughter.  
  
She paused. "Is the baby okay?"  
  
Harry didn't answer, he only looked at his feet. The room was silent for a minute.  
  
"No," Hermione cried, turning over so she couldn't face Harry. "Is it… dead?"  
  
Harry nodded. "Yeah."  
  
"God," she whispered.  
  
A tear fell from his eye and he didn't bother to wipe it away. "I know."  
  
"Harry?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
She bit her lip. "Am I really going to be all right? I don't feel all right."  
  
Harry looked at the floor, then at her. "Yeah, you're going to be okay."  
  
"If I'm not-"  
  
"You will be," he insisted.  
  
"But if I'm not, and I die-" Harry cringed at the word. "You remember what we talked about, the other night?"  
  
"Last night?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"About not committing suicide?"  
  
"Yes," she replied. "Don't."  
  
"Herm, you're going to be fine," he told her forcefully. "You're going to recover completely. The doctors said so."  
  
"Completely? Could I have kids if I wanted to?"  
  
Harry nodded. "Yeah. If you want."  
  
"If I want," she repeated.  
  
"I love you," he whispered.  
  
"I'm not going to live, am I?" she asked softly.  
  
"Yes, you are. Why do you keep asking?"  
  
She sighed. "It seems like you're keeping something from me."  
  
He frowned. "I'm not keeping anything from you."  
  
"Then what is it? What's wrong?"  
  
Harry paused. "You look-" He caught himself and bit his tongue.  
  
"Awful?" Hermione completed. "I look awful?"  
  
Harry looked at her, then nodded. "But it's just cuts and bruises; they'll heal. Don't worry."  
  
"Harry?" she whispered.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"I love you too."   
  
***  
  
Hermione awoke to shuffling in the room. At first sight, she saw a blur of white, blinding white. She shut her eyes, then reopened them. After a minute, she could make out someone else in the room, a woman.  
  
"Hello," the woman said. She was about Hermione's age, if not a few years older, very pretty, and had auburn hair, bright green eyes, and a button nose. She was dressed in white nursing scrubs, and looked so horrible familiar-.  
  
"Hyacinth Rettop," Hermione muttered.  
  
Hyacinth smiled. "That's my name, don't wear it out! You're Hermione, right?"  
  
Hermione nodded. "Right. We met in the park."  
  
"I remember, don't worry," Hyacinth reassured her.  
  
"Oh. What time is it?"  
  
"Seven in the morning. Good morning, sweetheart."  
  
"Good morning."  
  
"I'm so sorry about your baby," Hyacinth whispered.  
  
"So am I," Hermione said. "So am I."  
  
"You were just starting to like the idea…" Hyacinth shook her head.  
  
"I didn't know you worked here, or that you were a witch," Hermione commented.  
  
Hyacinth grinned. "Not quite the thing you blurt out to strangers, now is it?"  
  
"I guess not," Hermione said.  
  
"I saw your husband. They made him leave a while ago," Hyacinth said. "He's grown up quite handsome, hasn't he?"  
  
"I guess so." Hermione pondered this for a second. Grown up?  
  
"Is he sweet?" Hyacinth asked. "Does he behave himself?"  
  
"Yes," Hermione answered, a bit bewildered by her questions.  
  
"He looks so much like-" Hyacinth caught herself in time. "Like my friend. They have the same hair."  
  
"Really?" Hermione asked, puzzled.  
  
Hyacinth noticed her confusion. "I'm just curious, dear."  
  
"Ok," Hermione answered lamely.  
  
"Are you upset about the baby?"  
  
"Of course," Hermione admitted. "Very."  
  
"I thought you were considering abortion," Hyacinth added.  
  
"I was-" Hermione stopped. She had never mentioned abortion to Hyacinth. Then what…?  
  
"Don't worry, darling," Hyacinth chimed as she fixed something on the IV. "I'm sure you'll have plenty of children. Trust me."  
  
"Ok," Hermione said.   
  
"So," Hyacinth said, sitting on the end of Hermione's bed. "I have a bit of time before I do my rounds. Tell me about yourself."  
  
"I run a small environmental company. We find cures and such to both muggle and magical diseases. We also find new and improved ingredients for potions, etc. Considering it's only been around for a few years, it's done very well."  
  
"It sounds lovely," Hyacinth commented. "And your husband, what does he do?"  
  
"He works for the ministry," Hermione said. "He works in the department of crime enforcing."  
  
"Is that a good job these days?"  
  
These days? Hermione thought. "Yes, it is. His specialty is in the dark arts, of course."  
  
"Of course!" Hyacinth exclaimed. "I mean, he is Harry Potter. Anything else would just be odd, you know? He's so powerful."  
  
"Yes, I guess so," Hermione admitted.  
  
"So, how's your marriage?"  
  
Hermione thought this was none of Hyacinth's business and was about to say so, but the little voice in the back of her head urged her not to. "Good."  
  
"Elaborate on good, please."  
  
Hermione smiled. "Very good. Lately we've been fighting about the baby, but other than that we don't really have that many problems."  
  
Hyacinth grinned. "Do you love him?"  
  
"Yes," Hermione said softly. "Very much."  
  
"That's good. It's good he has so many people who love him. He had it so bad when he was growing up; I feel so guilty…" Hyacinth frowned.  
  
"Guilty?"  
  
She shook her head. "I know I couldn't have done anything about it, but you just feel bad, you know?"  
  
"I know what you mean."  
  
Hyacinth grinned. "I think you'd make a good mum."  
  
"Why?" Hermione questioned her. "I'm not patient, I'm bossy, I'm hard headed."  
  
"Hermione, no," Hyacinth said. "Believe me, I was those things too. Yet when I had my child, I learned patience. I wasn't as bossy. And you do need to be a bit stubborn, but you do soften."  
  
"How is your son?" Hermione asked.  
  
"Good," Hyacinth answered. "He's doing very well. He's growing up too fast!"  
  
Hermione laughed. "I'm sorry."  
  
She smiled sadly. "Don't be. One of the most wonderful things as a mother is to see your children grow up. I just wish-."  
  
"Wish what?"  
  
"Nothing, nothing." Hyacinth checked her watch. "Well, I do believe that I need to be getting home." She stood up and walked towards the door to the room.  
  
"You don't have more rounds?" Hermione asked.  
  
"No," Hyacinth commented. "You were my last patient. I hope you feel better."  
  
"Will you come back?" Hermione questioned, feeling a bit childish for doing so.  
  
"I don't know," Hyacinth admitted.   
  
"I hope I'll see you then, all right?"  
  
"Someday," Hyacinth said with a sly smile. "Gotta go."  
  
"Hyacinth," Hermione called.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"How old is your son, anyhow?"   
  
Hyacinth smiled, and she looked vaguely familiar. "Twenty five." She turned around and left.  
  
What? Twenty five? What was that all about? Is that her idea of a joke? If her son was twenty five, who was with her in the baby carriage the day before? Who was she? Hermione suddenly became a bit scared. Who was it that Hermione had told her life story to? Who was the kind woman who had reassured her in the park? Who was the sweet nurse who had told her that her life would go on, who had told her that she would have children? Who was the pretty red haired, green eyed woman? Who is Hyacinth Rettop?  
  
Wait a minute. Hermione's blood stopped flowing for an instant. Rettop. R-E-T-T-O-P. A chill went down Hermione's spine. R-E-T-T-O-P. P-O-T-T-E-R. Oh my god. Hyacinth Potter? Hyacinth- that was a flower, wasn't it? Lily? Hermione bit her lip. It all fit, the red hair, the green eyes, the nose- she had seen the woman before, in pictures. Her interest in Harry and her son's wife…. Oh god. But she's dead, Hermione told herself. Lily's dead. She's been dead for twenty four years. People just don't rise from the grave twenty four years after their deaths! Yet Hermione didn't rule out the possibility; in her years being exposed to the wizarding world, she believed things that she would never think. Lily? Lily Potter? Here? Sitting next to me? Talking to me? Is it really her, or is this someone's idea of a really sick joke?  
  
Hermione's head fell against her pillows as she fainted.  
  
***   
  
"Hermione?" Harry whispered.  
  
Hermione fluttered her eyes open to see her husband looking down at her. "Hey."  
  
"How are you feeling?" he asked softly.  
  
"Fine." Fine didn't cover it. Her heart was physically aching with remorse for her lost child, her mind was jumbled together so that one thought couldn't be distinguished from the next, and her body was so sore.  
  
Harry sat on the bed next to her. She put her head in his lap and he stroked her hair. "You sure?"  
  
"No," she admitted.  
  
"Me too," he squeaked.  
  
"When can I get out of here?" she asked.  
  
"Soon."  
  
"Soon?"  
  
"A few days," he told her. "Hey- I have good news."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Maggie woke up," he whispered, stroking her hair.  
  
"Is she going to be ok?"  
  
He nodded. "She'll have to go through some physical therapy, but she'll be fine. The doctors are saying that she'll walk and everything."  
  
Hermione smiled. "I bet Ron's ecstatic."  
  
"I'll bet so too. He is really upset about you, though."  
  
"He is?"   
  
Harry nodded. "And about the baby. He was going to be godfather, you know." Hermione nodded. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "I know you don't like talking about it."  
  
"It's ok," she whispered, squeezing his hand.  
  
"You look better," he told her, changing the subject.  
  
"Harry, I haven't even been in the hospital twenty-four hours. How do I look better?"  
  
He shrugged. "Well, they're doing some charms to speed up recovery. Not all your bruises are healing the muggle way."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"So," he said. "What have you been doing while they made me leave? Have you been sleeping?"  
  
She shook her head. "I've been talking to a nurse."  
  
"Really? That's good."  
  
"Harry," she started. "Can I ask you something?"  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"Do you have a picture of your mother?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Do you?"  
  
"Several," he answered, bewildered.   
  
"Do you have one on you?" she asked.  
  
He wordlessly took his wallet out of his pocket and handed it to Hermione. She flipped through the pictures- one of her, him, and Ron at school; one of their wedding; one just of her. She saw then what she was looking for, a picture of Lily and James Potter. James did look almost identical to Harry, except the eyes. Lily had Harry's eyes. She stared at the woman, and found Hyacinth Rettop staring back at her.  
  
"Thanks," Hermione said, voice shaking, as she handed the wallet back to Harry.  
  
He looked at her, confused. "You're welcome."  
  
She snuggled closer to him. "I need some sleep."  
  
"I'll go," he said, starting to get up.  
  
"No," she said, grabbing his hand. "Stay with me."  
  
"Ok," he whispered, laying down next to her. She scooted closer and he wrapped his arms around her.  
  
"Harry?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Goodnight," she whispered before dosing off in his arms.  
  
"Goodnight, sweetheart," he told the sleeping figure before indulging in much needed slumber himself.  
  
***  
  
The next few days went by in a blur. Hermione remembered a lot of needles, a lot of nurses, a lot of visitors, including her parents, Ron, Ginny, her cousin Iris, and the Chaberts. Harry, of course, practically was living at the hospital, sleeping in the chair beside her bed and in the lobby when the nurses ushered him out. Hermione found that she hated hospital food; it was much worse than her own cooking. She lived off the pastries and chocolate frogs Harry brought in. "I can't wait for a real meal," she told him often, and he promised to cook her real food when she arrived home. She had mixed feelings about going back to their flat, where she had been beaten to a pulp almost a week before. She shrugged the feeling off.  
  
She was walking and moving around the hospital now. Harry kept on telling her that she was looking better, but she didn't really believe him. She did feel more free with the IV out of her arm. The day before she had visited Maggie.  
  
"Hey," Hermione said, sitting down beside Maggie's bed.  
  
"Hello," Maggie whispered.  
  
"How do you feel?"   
  
"All right."  
  
"That's good."  
  
"I'm sorry about your baby. I didn't even know you were pregnant, so-"  
  
"I know. Don't say it, I know."  
  
"You've always been so kind to me, Hermione."  
  
She grinned. "And you to me."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"Don't worry about it. Are Ron and you speaking to each other?"  
  
"Are you kidding? The first time I saw him he was holding a dozen roses on his knees. Of course we are."  
  
"That's good."  
  
"I have my engagement ring back," Maggie stated, holding up her ring finger.   
  
"When are you going to be married?"  
  
"After I go through physical therapy, which will be in about six months. Then we can start planning and start doing things again."  
  
"So you probably won't be married for another year."  
  
Maggie shrugged. "That's what it sounds like. You'll be a bridesmaid, I hope."   
  
"Of course."  
  
"I'm sure you'll have children, Hermione. Don't worry about it."   
  
Hermione nodded and forced a smile.  
  
***  
  
"Welcome home," Harry whispered in her ear. The apartment had been cleaned up; all the lamps and fixtures fixed or replaced, the couch placed back in its proper place. The hardwood floors had been cleaned, as was the carpet in the bedroom.  
  
"It's clean," she commented.  
  
Harry laughed and squeezed her closer. "I thought you might like that."  
  
She quickly walked through the flat, remembering every little detail of her home, the smells, the cracks in the walls, everything. Harry followed her with fascination, watching her every mood. "Are you hungry?" he asked her.  
  
She shook her head. "No." She crossed across the hallway into their bedroom. It looked almost unnaturally made up; the carpet had been cleaned almost too well to get the blood stains out. Her blood. Maybe her baby's blood. Her dead child. Why wasn't it her who died? Why was it the baby? Lily died for her child, why didn't she get the same chance, the same honor? The question rebounded in her head, why? Why? Tears strolled down Hermione's cheeks. She was having difficulty breathing, and her legs started to give out. She kneeled onto the floor, convulsing in sobs.  
  
"Come here," Harry said softly as he picked her up and carried her to their bed. There he held her while she cried, kissed her tears. "What's wrong?" he asked, creating an entirely new burst of sobs. She just cried, and he held her.  
  
"Sorry," she sniffed, wiping her tears.   
  
He lightly kissed her cheek, tasting the salt of her tears. "Don't be sorry."  
  
"I really wanted that baby," she whispered.  
  
Harry tilted her face up to face him. "You did?"  
  
Hermione nodded. "Yes, I did."  
  
A tear fell down his face. "I didn't know that."  
  
"I didn't know either until it was too late."  
  
He hugged her and buried his face in her hair. "Well, there's no use in crying. It won't bring the baby back."  
  
"I don't really feel like doing much else."  
  
"The only thing we can do," Harry said softly, relaxing his grip on Hermione, drawing back so that his face looked directly into hers. "Is to try again."  
  
She nodded, lowering her head.  
  
"We'll try again, and eventually, we'll succeed."  
  
"I know," she said, raising her gaze to look at him. "We will."  
  
"I love you."  
  
"Love you too."  
  
"You want to try again now?" he asked playfully, raising an eyebrow.  
  
She grinned. "Why not?" He smiled and kissed her.  
  
  
A/N: I am done! Yes! All 74 pages! I'll be done with Miracle soon, and then I'll be fic-free. Poor me. I'm actually considering writing a sequal to this one. You know, a sequel to the sequel? It'll be around Ron & Maggie's wedding. It'll probably be pretty fluffy, though with a bit of angst, you know, so it doesn't get to stupid. You like? Write your comments/suggestions in the review, ok? ok!  
  
  
Disclaimer:   
  
Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Ginny Weasley, Molly Weasley, Arthur Weasley, Bill Weasley, Charlie Weasley, Percy Weasley, Fred Weasley, George Weasley, Neville Longbottom, James Potter, Lily Potter, Ernie Macmillan, and Diagon Alley belong to an author named J.K. Rowling.  
  
Maggie Chabert, Chloe Chabert, Ethan Chabert, Angie Chabert, the name Hyacinth Rettop, Bob Middle, the McGills, and Susie and her paramour Matt belong to me.  



End file.
